Line of Death
by Hazza111
Summary: Short story from a soldiers perspective in a battle during the American Revolution.


_A quick story I had to write for English and my first completed short story. Comments would be great thanks. If enought people think its good enough I might make it into a proper story of the soldiers life. I want it to describe the horrors of war in the 18th century.  
_

_Thanks again  
_

**Line of Death**

"MAKE READY!" ordered the captain raising his sword in the air.

"_Make Ready!" _responded the men around me.

I raised my musket vertically in front of my face in close sync with my other comrades in the line. The metallic sounds of the firing cocks clicking into place rippled down the line of men around me.

"TAKE AIM!"

"_Take Aim!"_

I leveled my rifle at the British Redcoat line in front coming towards us like a slow unstoppable tidal wave.

"FIRE!"

Turning my head to my right and closing my eyes to avoid any of the thick choking smoke, I pulled the trigger. I heard the flint strike the pan creating a bright white flash like lightning and igniting the gunpowder in the pan. The gunpowder exploded in another bright flash forming a smoke cloud that filled the air around me. I could smell the fresh gunpowder and began clearing my throat from choking. My ears were ringing and with a slight pause between the priming explosion and the firing, a sudden stabbing pain hit my right shoulder. A large bellow of smoke shot out and covered my view like a thick morning mist. The faint screams and moans from the oncoming Redcoats unlucky enough to be hit by the unaimed inaccurate volley could be heard over the marching tune being played by the enemy's musicians. The tune kept playing and the enemy kept advancing, seemingly oblivious to the recent losses from our volley. The smoke cleared and the enemy was now close enough you could see their blank expressionless faces.

I was beginning the third stage of the reloading process of using the ramrod to push the ball and powder to the bottom of the barrel. I was trying to keep in time with the rest of the men around me and trying to follow the proper firing procedures we had been taught. I looked up in horror, _'it's now their turn'_. The marching tune stopped creating an eerie of silence to what's about to happen.

"HALT!" ordered the British commander.

The Redcoats came to a halt in a perfect synchronized motion from years of training they had making them the perfect killing machine.

"MAKE READY!"

"Make Ready"

"PRESENT!"

"FIRE!"

The sudden loud eruption of musket fire could have been heard for miles and neutralised the sounds of the cannons and reloading muskets.

As my ears began to readjust they picked up the sounds of screams and the occasional burst of musket fire all around me. I looked down the line the line seeing the whole first row collapse in screams to the ground.

"PRESENT!"

I prepared myself for another onslaught of fire from the enemy's second rank with the light hearted militia running away in terror.

"FIRE!"

The second rank fired. The sound was deafening again and left the same amount of carnage as before, with most of the second line falling and faltering under the volley.

The faint murmur from the enemy cannons captain was followed by two successive thunderous booms. An explosion of dirt shot up about three metres in front of our wavering line breaking the spirit of the less hearted recruits who began routing. A loud group of screams came from my right about seven men down. A cloud of dust and dirt subsided from where the screams came from revealing that that last cannon had shot straight through the remaining part of that line. The sight of decapitated soldiers clutching their wounds and the cold crying out screams of pain made even the experienced men turn and run.

Peter Lewis, my best friend had finished reloading as had I, so we took aim and fired. The enemy line returned a volley, hitting Peter in his shoulder and either wounding or killing numerous other comrades. He twisted and fell to the ground, spraying blood on my face. I dropped my rifle in shock to comfort my dying friend and wipe off the blood but our Captain ordered a charge directly into the centre of the line. I tried to run but I couldn't. A sharp pain struck me in my chest and I feel to my knees. I took a long blink and my vision became blurry. I felt a slight soothing warm trickle of blood run down my body. I saw the remaining men charge followed by a muffled volley from the British lines and the men were cut down. The Captain fell, the flag bearers fell, friends and family fell and our brothers of this great nation some call America fell.

I began thinking to myself is this sacrifice worth it? My heart beat was faster and the 'thud-thud…thud-thud' was now the only thing I could hear. I feel to the ground, landing next to my friend, my brother, and closing my eyes, the pain was gone knowing that I was not dying alone.


End file.
